


eighteen is two years (too young)

by OMGTHEFEEL



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious!Seungri, Patient Love, Slice of Life, but not that oblivious, pining!jiyong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGTHEFEEL/pseuds/OMGTHEFEEL
Summary: “I've got a great idea,” Jiyong proclaims as he leans his entire weight on the younger boy, pinning him to the bed. His hair is messily piled on his head, bits of it falling into his eyes. It's getting long and Seungri knows Jiyong plans to cut it for their next concert; Seungri will miss seeing Jiyong's hair in a top knot. “We should kiss.”





	1. kisses that taste like strawberries

**Author's Note:**

> Seungri is clueless and Jiyong is patient.

**Sweet and tangy, it is his favorite fruit.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| kisses that taste like strawberries |

Lee Seunghyun— Seungri now, he repeats to himself— is eighteen when he realizes that his life would never quite be the same.

Of course when Seungri left Gwangju at age sixteen and walked through YG's doors with nothing but hopes and dreams, he quickly realized that he wasn't any different from the other hundreds of boys who came to Seoul. Meeting the people who would make up BIGBANG and seeing how talented they were compared to Seungri had only hammered in that fact, and he knew, deep in his heart, that the future would only continue to be hard. 

But Seungri hadn't minded much. Because Seungri's future has never been easy before, so he worked harder and harder and hoped it was enough. 

(It was.)

When he joined BIGBANG though, Seungri hadn't realized his future would also include having to put up with his hyungs' antics. 

Seungri is eighteen when he gets a slice of what his future will be like for the next seven— and hopefully more— years, and he doesn't know how he feels about it.

“What about sex? Any girls catching your eye right now?”

“Hyung, I'm eighteen,” Seungri says helplessly.

Jiyong wiggles his eyebrows at him as if to say _so what_ and _that never stopped me_. Seungri wrinkles his nose at him because _ew,_ that was way more than what Seungri wanted to know about his hyung's sex life, which is to say, nothing at all and he doesn't ever want to see his hyung do that again. For his own sanity.

“Gross,” Seungri says and Jiyong smirks.

“When _I_ was your age,” Jiyong starts and Seungri pretends not to notice.

“I'm not interested in any girls at the moment; and even if I was— _which I'm not_ — I have more than enough on my plate, being an idol and everything.”

Jiyong huffs childishly at him, seemingly disappointed about not being able to fluster Seungri and Seungri rolls his eyes upwards in exasperation. People say _he's_ the perverted one; Seungri has the lingering effects of teenage puberty to blame, what's _Jiyong's_ excuse? 

Jiyong tugs at Seungri's foot. “C'mon maknae, tell me the truth. I can keep a secret.”

Seungri looks at him in disbelief and he's sure that his skepticism is clear on his face because they both know how true _that_ was. Jiyong grins at him unrepentantly.

Seungri settles his shoulders against the headpost, palms laid flat on their bed sheets. Jiyong who watches him expectantly. 

Seungri purses his mouth. It's not a lie though.

Seungri doesn't remember the last time he's had any time for himself, for Lee Seunghyun rather than Seungri of BIGBANG.

Seungri isn't sad about it, god knows that his hyungs are more than enough to distract him from getting lonely or bored, and he loves his job as an idol, but it does leave him with little chances to make new friends or even think about starting a relationship. 

Maybe he can try again in the future, when the status and careers are more permanent, and their salaries more stable, but for now Seungri is content with what— and who— he has. Seungri is still young after all. 

He has all the time in the world to figure it out.

“I'm telling the truth hyung,” Seungri sighs. “We're idols hyung, I can't go just go dating someone. It's too much of a risk.”

Jiyong looks at him with furrowed brows while he tries to figure that out, as if he couldn't understand what the problem was, and to be fair, Seungri thinks he understands.

Jiyong has always done what he wanted, having more than enough talent and charm to get away with it; becoming an idol changed nothing. Jiyong hasn't let it stop him from pursuing whoever he wanted at all.

It came as a surprise for Seungri to find out that Jiyong, strict leader of BIGBANG Kwon Jiyong, treats rules the same way he treats critics- with little to no thought.

“Okay, but if girls isn't your thing, there's always boys you know.” At Seungri's blank look, Jiyong smiles, oddly enough. “No sex at all? Not that there's anything wrong with being asexual or whatever but I'm just trying to understand.”

“I've.. never had sex,” Seungri says, somewhat uncomfortable. He knows he's starting to build up a reputation of being a playboy, but there's a difference between harmless flirting and actual take-home-and-sleep-with-flirting. 

For god's sake, he just turned eighteen a few months ago. Seungri can't even legally go into bars most parts of the world, where would he even go for a one night stand? He says this to Jiyong and his hyung smiles even wider, all gummy and white teeth. 

Seungri doesn't understand what goes on his hyung's head.

“Okay.” Jiyong repeats, and his eyes soften at the edges, “Okay, so no sex. What about petting or snuggling or— I don't know, kissing? What about that? Didn't you have a girlfriend before?”

“Well, she was more of a friend who thought that I should at least try dating with someone I knew and liked, so she volunteered,” Seungri admits and he scratches his neck. 

They had dated for three years and it had been... nice. Seungri doesn't regret the time he spent with her, but he can't say he was surprised when he found out she had been cheating on him with a senior at her school.

Somewhere along the line, they both found that they preferred spending time with each other as friends rather than dating, and while it hurt that she couldn't just _say_ that to Seungri, he isn't particularly heartbroken over it.

“And?” Jiyong is almost vibrating with curiosity. The only reason Seungri even thinks about answering is because he's used to Jiyong being like this; a little nosy, a little pushy, a little possessive. 

_(I want to know everything about you,_ Jiyong had whispered to him once.)

“It was soft, slightly moist, and tasted like blackberry chapstick,” Seungri recalls. He remembers the flavor of the chapstick the most, mainly because Seungri hadn't liked eating blackberries at the time. Still doesn't now.

The older boy snorts and grins at him in amusement. “That's what you got out of it? What else?”

“Her hugs were nice and she was an excellent cuddler,” Seungri says thoughtfully, and then he gives the older boy a half-hearted glare. “And she didn't steal the blankets like you do either.” Jiyong clicks his tongue at that, a scowl painting his lips, but Seungri also notices that he doesn't argue, so he grins cheekily at him. 

It is a mistake.

Seungri's grin slips off his face quickly when Jiyong lunges and traps him in a headlock. There is a brief scuffle as Jiyong attacks his hair with reckless abandon while Seungri tries to roll them off their bed, but it ends with Jiyong on top of Seungri with a proud grin and Seungri suffocating underneath his weight. 

“I've got a great idea,” Jiyong proclaims as he leans his entire weight on the younger boy, pinning him to the bed. His hair is messily piled on his head, bits of it falling into his eyes. It's getting long and Seungri knows Jiyong plans to cut it for their next concert; Seungri will miss seeing Jiyong's hair in a top knot. “We should kiss.”

“What,” Seungri deadpans.

“We'll since you're so cautious about dating, I figured you haven't had a chance to experiment. I mean you like me, right?” Jiyong babbles and _oh no,_ he has that light in his eyes. The one that says nothing and no one would be able to dissuade him from whatever it was he wanted to do. Seungri _hated_ that look because it usually involved him in some way shape or form. “Right, of course you do, so we should try and kiss and see how you like that.”

Again. Seungri doesn't understand his hyung.

Jiyong grins and tugs Seungri forward, “And if you ever want to try for more, I'm always willing to show you. Even the kinky and fun stuff; you won't have to worry about me not taking responsibility either. So what do you say?”

“That is a horrible idea,” Seungri says immediately, clearly having not paid attention to a word Jiyong had said beyond _we should kiss._

“Oh c'mon maknae,” Jiyong says, and he pouts. “Just one kiss, I promise I won't try and slip you any tongue.”

Seungri thinks for a moment.

He does like Jiyong, not that Seungri will say that aloud anytime soon.

Jiyong is nice and smart and always, always makes sure to take care of him whether it's onstage, behind the scenes, or during their everyday life.

Sometimes Seungri thinks it's because Jiyong feels guilty over how cold he'd treated him during their pre-debut years, and that Jiyong was trying to make up for that time by overcompensating and sticking to Seungri with all the strength and passion of a burr on soft shoelaces. 

Seungri doesn't mind it, as much as he complains and whine in front of cameras. Seungri isn't ashamed to admit that he still idolizes Jiyong. Always has and probably always will, because as much as people try to forget, Seungri is still Lee Seunghyun; a country boy with too small hands and too big dreams. 

And Little Seunghyun will always have a special place in his heart for Kwon Jiyong.

Jiyong watches him patiently, eyes perfectly steady. Seungri knows that he's entirely willing to sit there for however long it would take for him to make his decision and it makes an itchy feeling bloom in his chest, sort of fond and fuzzy and entirely too hot, so Seungri nods his head.

The smile that spreads on Jiyong's face is absolutely dazzling and Seungri thinks he might need sunglasses.

Jiyong straightens and lets go of Seungri's arms so that he can sit up. Jiyong is still close enough that Seungri can smell his breath, fresh mint gum and something sweet.

Seungri leans forward carefully and Jiyong holds still, arms brushing against Seungri's thighs, before he visibly relaxes.

Seungri's eyes flicker up, ever so slightly, and Jiyong's eyes flutter shut. He's nervous, Seungri thinks with faint amusement and confusion, before he presses a soft kiss against the other's mouth. 

Jiyong is warm and smells like pine and Seungri's cologne. He reminds Seungri of home and safety and fresh laundry in the sun. Jiyong's fingers briefly curl around the fabric of his shirt and Seungri's heart sighs. 

It isn't a very long kiss, sweet and chaste, and afterwards Jiyong gives Seungri a surprisingly soft smile. He looks happy, but when Seungri blinks, the expression is gone before he can figure out why.

“So, what's the verdict?”

Seungri isn't sure what Jiyong is looking for. There's a strange tension in the room that isn't quite uncomfortable but it lingers in the air and lays on his skin; heavy and electrifying.

Seungri licks his lips and Jiyong's eyes slide down. Wow. 

Seungri decides to be honest: “It scratched and tasted like strawberries.”

Jiyong's laughter fills the room, bright and loud, and Seungri smiles.

Seungri still isn't quite sure how he feels about sex or girls or boys or relationships, but Jiyong looks at him with stars in his eyes and Seungri wonders.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave some validation,, some loves,, comments,, your soul,, i'm not picky


	2. my ribcage blooms like a flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's it like?” Seungri asks. He lays on their bed, black hair spread across white sheets around like his head like a halo. Seungri looks at Jiyong from beneath his lashes and Jiyong tries not to stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not in chronological order, mmmainly because i underestimated how many people wanted a continuation to this

**He reached inside his bones, cupped his heart, and whispered hello.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| my ribcage blooms like a flower |

It's a cavity. You either fill it up, Jiyong whispers, or rip it out.

It is an emptiness inside his chest; reach inside between his rib-bones and find a heart that has stopped beating. Just pumping pumping pumping blood for a body that can't breathe for itself anymore.

Pour yourself a glass of tequila, some soju, or maybe red wine. Sip it. Nurse it. Hope it's enough to forget and close your eyes, and count the days until it's all over. 

(Don't let yourself think about what happens if you can't get over it.)

“What's it like?” Seungri asks. He lays on their bed, black hair spread across white sheets around like his head like a halo. Seungri looks at Jiyong from beneath his lashes and Jiyong tries not to stare.

“What's what like?” Jiyong asks, distracted. 

“Falling in love,” Seungri says, he lifts his head slightly and his hair fall messily over his eyes. Jiyong's hands itch. He clenches them. 

“It's great,” Jiyong answers. Mainly because it's what's expected of him and he doesn't really want to explain to his maknae what love means to him, because some part of Jiyong, a tiny, tiny part, is scared that all that will come out of his mouth is Seungri's name. “But it's different for everyone.”

Seungri frowns at him. Jiyong wants to pinch his cheeks. His nails dig into his palm.

“Then how will I know?”

Jiyong thinks of waking up one morning, limbs tangled with Seungri's until he can't find where he starts or ends. He thinks of Seungri's hair, his soft bangs curling across his forehead, and Seungri's tiny little sighs underneath the rising sun. 

If he closes his eyes, Jiyong can remember how Seungri looked; the skyline outside their dorm window and the sun breaking over the horizon, casting shadows that dipped over the planes of Seungri's face.

(Seungri had looked beautiful and Jiyong wanted to kiss him.)

Jiyong thinks of staying up on nights when he should be asleep, dog-tired and almost-dreaming, closing his eyes briefly and only able to see Seungri beneath his eyelids. 

Jiyong thinks of not being able to _stop_ thinking about Seungri. In his dreams, in his thoughts, in the middle of a meeting or on stage.

He thinks of whispering: _God, I hope I'm a fraction of this to you._

He thinks of whispering: _God, I hope you think of me as much as I do you._

Jiyong thinks of how Seungri makes him feel, of Seungri's smiles and his grins, the dimples in his cheeks, and the crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he laughs.

Seungri looks at Jiyong as if he hung the stars and the moon in the night sky— _in his eyes, Jiyong is two hundred thirty-eight thousand and nine hundred million miles from earth, too far to touch, but god he wants to try_ — and Seungri chases him, runs as fast as he can because he thinks it might help him reach Jiyong one day, and it makes Jiyong want to run forever and ever, climb higher and higher, because he wants Seungri to always look at him.

_What's it like, being in love?_

It is the feeling inside Jiyong's lungs, as if flowers are growing there, suffocating and squeezing his bones until they crack. It is Jiyong's ribcage opening up and his heart climbing out because all it wants is to be closer to Seungri, even if it hurts.

_What's it like?_

It is feeling scared and being terrified of taking any step forward. It is watching and watching and watching and hoping it's enough.

“You'll know,” Jiyong says, and he smiles at Seungri's pout. Reaches over to pinch his cheek. “When it happens, you'll know.”

Seungri smiles and Jiyong wants to cry. _It is wonderful, being in love with you._

Three weeks later, Jiyong kisses Seungri and doesn't regret it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but simple, trying very hard not to go into angst ;A; and it's a struggle. thoughts?


	3. something good, something that stays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hyung,” Jiyong reminds him absentmindedly. It is almost second-nature at this point, because Seungri always forgets. Seungri makes a face at Jiyong, not quite whining but bordering on it, and squawks when the older boy scoots over to lay his head on Seungri's stomach as punishment. 
> 
> Seungri rolls his eyes at his sweaty, heavy, smelly hyung and obediently— hah, Jiyong snorts, obediently — repeats, “Yes, hyung?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jiyong is thirsty for some praise

**It's the first time he thinks BIGBANG will last.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| something good, something that stays |

It's both too early and too late for anyone else to be practicing. The sun is shy behind the horizon, not yet awake, and the fog is crooning outside.

It's funny, Seungri hadn't thought there would be fog in Seoul too, for some reason, and waking up in the morning to see the familiar curtain of white had been a shock.

It made it more real somehow; Seungri being in Seoul and becoming an idol. 

“Seungri,” Jiyong says suddenly. His eyes are focused on the ceiling of the practice room and its bright white lights, as if he's avoiding Seungri's gaze which can't be true because Seungri doesn't think Jiyong cares enough about Seungri's opinion to avoid him.

It is 3am and Jiyong is ramped up on caffeine and adrenaline, and Seungri is the stupid maknae who can't leave his hyung alone. 

Seungri takes a moment to catch his breath and wipes the sweat off his forehead with his shirt. “Yes?” He rolls over to look at the older boy. 

“Hyung,” Jiyong reminds him absentmindedly. It is almost second-nature at this point, because Seungri always forgets. Seungri makes a face at Jiyong, not quite whining but bordering on it, and squawks when the older boy scoots over to lay his head on Seungri's stomach as punishment. 

Seungri rolls his eyes at his sweaty, heavy, _smelly_ hyung and obediently— _hah,_ Jiyong snorts, _obediently_ — repeats, “Yes, hyung?”

Jiyong is quiet for a moment, long enough for Seungri to think he fell asleep. Seungri bites his bottom lip, tentatively bracing his elbows against the floor. “Jiyong-hyung?

“Do you think we'll make it?” Jiyong asks, suddenly. He chews his lower lip in the briefest display of vulnerability, and then looks Seungri in the eye. “Are we— do you think BIGBANG is gonna last?”

Seungri freezes, and with how close they were, he's sure that Jiyong can feel how tense he is. Seungri licks his lips and sits up fully. Jiyong's head slides down to his lap.

Jiyong's gaze is still stubbornly fixed on the ceiling, but there's a trace of insecurity there, and it has Seungri at a loss because Seungri isn't the one Jiyong goes to about these kinds of things; has never been. It was more Youngbae or Seunghyun's job to listen, since they were closer to Jiyong and knew him longer. 

Not Seungri; never the maknae.

Despite their relationship improving to absurd scales during the past year or so, they're still not at the point in their relationship where Jiyong could be comfortable confiding anything important to him. Or at least, that's what Seungri had thought.

Apparently, they're a lot closer than he knew, and the realization sort of takes Seungri's breath away. Seungri's tempted to ask Jiyong to pinch him. “Why not,” Seungri replies. “I think we're doing good right now.”

“Right now,” Jiyong scowls, and he says it like it's a curse. “What about in the future? Seven years from now, are we still going to be here? Together?” He looks up at Seungri, upside down, with intense eyes like he's searching for an answer in Seungri's irises, and Seungri feels naked in front of him. 

“Five years from now,” Seungri corrects softly. His heart is a racecar and his eyes are suddenly weary. Two years; it's already been two years since Seunghyun left Gwangju and became Seungri.

Seungri will turn eighteen in two months. 

(He feels older than that.)

“Time flies by too fast,” Jiyong whispers. They're the only ones in the room, but his voice sounds too loud. “I want to freeze everything so that it stays like this forever.”

“That's a lie,” Seungri murmurs. “You'd go crazy repeating everything. You hate stagnation hyung.”

Jiyong cracks a smile, the one that's only reserved for his closest friends, small and barely gracing his lips, and for Seungri it's an acknowledgment to how far they've come, how close they've grown.

“It'll be okay if you're there too,” he says. There's a crack in his low voice and Seungri's heart floats quietly in his chest. 

Seungri smiles at that. Turns away and catches their reflection in the mirror. His hair is a mess and Jiyong's isn't much better, brown strands slick with sweat. 

It's hot and Seungri wants to turn on the fan. Jiyong is heavy and Seungri thinks his legs might have fallen asleep, but that's okay. “We'll be okay,” Seungri says aloud. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he believes it.

If you asked him two years ago, if he thought BIGBANG would still be together after seven years, he might have replied “I'll be happy if we stay together for one.” It wouldn't be out of malice or insecurity.

Seungri knew both Jiyong and Youngbae had expected to debut as a duo; he hadn't missed the bitterness that cloaked their every move when Yang Hyun Suk had introduced them, nor had he missed the immediate dislike in Jiyong's eyes or apathy in Youngbae's glances.

There were so many problems at the beginning, both externally and internally, to point where Seungri wondered why Yang Hyun Suk thought it would be a good idea in the first place.

Seunghyun hadn't seemed like he wanted to debut, Jiyong seemed to hate him, and Daesung hadn't been willing to get close to anyone or let anyone get close to him, much less Seungri. Youngbae, on the other hand, pretended there wasn't any tension in the group entirely. Adding on with the fact that even with BIGBANG's documentary, the hype around them was lukewarm at best— well, is it any wonder why Seungri hadn't thought they would last?

He didn't think anyone did, and Seungri thinks, Jiyong probably knew it too. 

“How do you know?” Jiyong asks, his voice even, like he doesn't care, but Seungri has known Jiyong for almost two years now, and he knows that above all else, Jiyong loves being in control.

Jiyong likes to obsess. He likes to mull over words in his head, chew on them for days, sharp teeth and sticky jaw. It's why he hates impromptu speeches so much, and people not finishing their sentences, and not being in control.

 _Especially_ not being in control.

So even if Jiyong acts as if he could care less, Seungri knows Jiyong has probably thought about this for a while, and Seungri knows that he will have to be careful with what he says next.

Jiyong's shoulders are tense, like he's ready to bolt at any moment, and Seungri holds back the urge to sooth them because he knows it'll only make Jiyong close up. Jiyong turns over and his nose presses against Seungri's thigh. 

Seungri blinks, slow and carefully blank. He thinks of the time he befriended a grumpy streetcat back at Gwangju who always pretended to ignore him when he visited, but hissed whenever Seungri tried to leave. 

Seungri has known Jiyong for two years now, and more than anything else he's learned in Seoul, Seungri learned how to be patient.

Seungri waits and Jiyong sighs. An exhale that's full of shaky tension and unsaid fears. 

It is 4am and the sun is slowly peeking out from behind the fog, stretching with a lazy yawn, reaching and dyeing the room a quiet baby blue. 

“Because we've already gotten this far,” Seungri says, finally. Then he scowls. “Because we made it hyung. You can't tell me I wore a bear suit and danced in front of thousands of people for nothing.”

Jiyong's laughter comes in a soft rumbling, a volcano prime for eruption. His shoulders shake and he buries his face into Seungri's thigh, sharp bursts of warm air against his skin. Jiyong peeks up, bright eyes, shiny and soft. “What's that supposed to mean maknae? _I_ liked the bear suits.”

Seungri laughs. “That's because you got the cutest one hyung. You gave Youngbae-hyung the mouse costume too.” Seungri says woefully, “Poor Youngbae-hyung, he thought it was an elephant and no one corrected him.” Jiyong rolls his eyes, absolutely unrepentant and Seungri laughs again. 

What he means is; what he wants to say is:

People say the best years of their careers were their debut years, and maybe they're right, but Seungri can't imagine anything worse than empty-stomachs-burning-throat-eating-the-skin-inside-their-ribs or just-one-more-night-one-more-dance-one-more-song or don't-cry-don't-cry-don't-give-up. 

Maybe it's Seungri's naivety talking, or maybe Seungri just can't stop looking at the best and brightest parts of life because deep down he's still that simple teenager with a too-clumsy-accent and too-dark-circles, but Seungri thinks they've done okay for themselves.

“Well, what does that have to do with anything?” Jiyong says impatiently. He looks at Seungri from the corner of his eye. 

Seungri raises an eyebrow. “Hyung, if any other group had done what we did, they'd be laughed off stage. We weren't. Doesn't that say something to you?”

What he wants to say is; what he means is:

They've already gotten past the hard times. The hardest times. They began at rock bottom and they're only now beginning to climb, and Seungri's absolutely certain that if they work hard enough, they can make it to the top. 

What he wants to say is:

He thinks BIGBANG is doing great.

“We're BIGBANG, the best and brightest of them all,” Seungri says, quoting Yang Hyun Suk, and Jiyong snorts. Seungri grins at him. “No, really hyung! Look at us, look at what we accomplished; nominated in seven categories, winning in five: Song of the Year, Best Male Artist, Artist of the Year, Record of the Year Digital Release…”

What he means to say is:

BIGBANG is going to last.

“We accomplished so much,” Seungri mumbles and Jiyong lets out a wobbly breath. He scoots up closer so he can curl up in Seungri's lap. He smells like sweat and Seungri's cologne, which is odd because Seungri is certain he lost his last bottle three weeks ago. 

“Were you going to list out every single award we got?” Jiyong says. Sniffles, really, but his face is buried at the hollow of his throat, so Seungri can't look down to check. Jiyong wraps his arms around his neck and Seungri resolutely ignores the slight wetness growing at the collar of his shirt. 

“If you want.” Seungri offers. 

Jiyong pulls away. His eyes are a little misty but he laughs at the seriousness on Seungri's face. Jiyong is smiling so wide, his eyes squinting like crescent moons, and his gums are out, and Seungri thinks it's unfair how attractive Jiyong looks when he laughs.

“Maybe I do,” Jiyong murmurs. He's staring at Seungri, eyes soft and parted lips like he's realized something. Seungri hopes it's not another questionable theme idea. “Praise me maknae,” he demands.

Jiyong is all skinny glamour, and messy hair, and G-Dragon swag.

_He’s so cute._

The thought comes like abruptly, like a jolt of lightning, and Seungri resolutely decides never to tell Jiyong because the last thing his hyung needs is a _genuine_ boost to his ego.

“Okay,” Seungri says simply. He settles against the cold wooden floor of the practice room, and when Jiyong doesn't let go of his neck, pulls his hyung down with him until they're both on the ground. 

Jiyong doesn't mind being on top of Seungri, legs intertwined, and arms pressed together, and Seungri is too used to it to complain.

Jiyong looks at him expectantly, practically preening, and Seungri doesn't have to think very hard about what to say because he'll always have that endless admiration for Jiyong.

Jiyong hums along to every word, buries his head inside the hollow of Seungri's throat. Satisfaction radiates from his every pore.

(Like a cat that got the canary, Seungri thinks with a laugh.)

It is 5am and the sky is peeking from behind the fog, sunshine sneaks through the corridors and through the window sills, as quick and light as feathers in the air. 

It is a new day and Seungri is content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not realize that the yg dance studios did not have windows (lol) oops i guess


	4. willfully ignorant of what it means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love is all about compromises, like with Gaho, for instance, when he comes over and falls asleep in my lap. We are making a compromise,” Jiyong explains. He plays with Seungri's fingers and smiles when Seungri opens his palms to make it easier. “I am getting pins and needles, but I also get a dog on my lap. It's a win-win situation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jiyong you bisexual dumbass, you're in love with him

**Someone like him.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| willfully ignorant of what it means |

Letting someone sit on your lap isn't as romantic as people make it out to be.

Jiyong should know because honestly, for all his clinginess when it comes to him and what's his, Jiyong admits that it gets a little uncomfortable after a while. Sure it's nice at first, having someone be that close to you, close enough to breathe in the same air. Being able to comfortably reach over and hug them or rest his chin on their head or shoulder, but the pins and needles that come afterwards… well.

Jiyong's not complaining about it, not really, because Jiyong thinks the pain shouldn't be so bad if you love them enough to make that sacrifice— that compromise— but that's the problem: Jiyong hasn't liked anyone enough to compromise like that.

Hasn't fallen in love with anyone like that before.

You see, Jiyong can be romantic: Jiyong can do intimate touches, and late-night phone calls, and chaste kisses after dates. Jiyong knows when to send fresh red roses and how to write poems with the perfect amount of cheesiness. Jiyong knows the difference between overblown displays of affection and subtle ones, and which type seemed to matter more to who. 

But sometimes, when he's up at night, murmuring sweet nothings into a phone and a girlfriend (or, on rarer occasions, boyfriend) on the other side, he finds himself, more often than not, distracted by a sleeping Seungri on his bed and how warm he is pressed against Jiyong's leg. 

Looking back and comprising the vast majority of his relationships, Jiyong notices that any affection he held for them paled against any feelings he had for Seungri. 

Jiyong guesses he should've taken it as a warning sign that the relationship wouldn't work out, but Jiyong's always had trouble putting his bonds in the correct order. 

Jiyong can't say why he likes being around Seungri more than he does his girlfriends. It's the same reason he doesn't understand what's wrong with worrying over Seungri in the middle of a date. 

Seungri needs the most protection and Jiyong's the leader, a big brother now. It's his job to watch over Seungri, to look out for the baby of their group.

So when they break up with him, Jiyong doesn't exactly regret it as much as he should. Jiyong's first love has always been music anyway, and Seungri is worth so much more than a relationship that wouldn't last.

“Hyung?”

Seungri is sitting on the couch. He's wearing an oversized shirt that bares his collarbone, and Jiyong remembers buying it for him, remembers hating everything about it because it said _pants_ on the front and buying the matching set of pants that said _shirt_ on its back pockets. Every inch of his fashionista soul had screamed at him when he brought them to the cash register.

Nine dollars and twenty cents, Jiyong recalls, nine dollars and twenty cents that Jiyong really shouldn't have been able to afford, but the look on Seungri's face when he gave them to him was well worth the next few meals he skipped. 

Jiyong sighs against Seungri's chest and nuzzles his face into his shirt. It's soft and smells like pomegranates. Youngbae shouldn't ever be allowed to buy the fabric softener anymore. 

He presses his face closer. ”Hyung? What are you doing?” Seungri asks awkwardly as Jiyong tries to become one with his shirt but doesn't move. Jiyong trained him so well.

Jiyong grunts plaintively. And then hums because he likes the vibration it makes, and when Seungri squirms at the sensation, Jiyong holds him by his hips. 

“Maknae,” Jiyong drags the last syllable into a whine. “I wanna fall in love.”

“Okay..?” Seungri pats him, and smiles with his usual brand of exasperation, “I'm sure you'll find someone hyung.” Jiyong gets distracted by that.

Seungri has the best smiles, Jiyong thinks, and the prettiest dark eyes. 

_Seungri would make a pretty girl._

He has this innocence about him that makes Jiyong believe he could pull it off, and besides, Jiyong's a little tired with being the only one wearing a skirt in their parodies, especially since it's becoming more and more obvious that Jiyong's being delegated to the feminine roles. 

He makes a mental note to have one of their themes include schoolgirl uniforms: pleated skirts and sailor suits, white and black stockings, maybe yellow lipstick with red ribbons in their hair; it's been awhile since Jiyong last saw Seunghyun wearing a wig anyway. Serves him right for poking fun of his masculinity. 

(Wearing heels is the _height_ of masculinity and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.)

“Oh no,” Seungri says, and then he pales in fear— as he should be. “Whatever it is you're thinking of hyung...”

“Yellow lipstick and red-and-black pleated skirts,” Jiyong sing-songs with a mischievous smile. He snickers at the face Seungri makes. “But don't worry maknae, you can wear red lipstick if you want. I'll make that sacrifice.” 

“What sacrifice?” 

“The color-coding of course, red lipstick will mess up the theme,” Jiyong says and he smiles to show Seungri he's joking. Maybe. Just a little. (He's not. He still wants to see Seungri in lipstick though, so it's fine.) 

“Of course,” Seungri echoes. His eyebrows are furrowed like he's trying to figure out how yellow lipstick matches with red-and-black pleated skirts and why red lipstick doesn't, but it's okay because Jiyong's got it all figured out. “Any chance I can talk you out of this?” he asks, hopeful.

“None,” says Jiyong, even as he settles down on Seungri's lap, waiting to be convinced otherwise. 

Later, when Jiyong is dumped by yet another girlfriend, and he is on the floor of their dorm living room with yet another heartbreak song in front of him, he starts to think he'll never be able to write about anything other than his failed relationships.

Jiyong promptly blames it on the lap-sitting. She hadn't been particularly fond of sitting in his lap anyway; their relationship would've never worked out. 

Except, when Jiyong tells his theory to Youngbae, his eyes go confused and wide, like he doesn't understand, and he breathes out a baffled, “huh?”

“What?” Jiyong says, and fiddles with the edges of his notebook. His voice comes out more defensive than he would like, and it confuses him because Jiyong has nothing to be defensive about. “Why are you confused?” 

“But you're always on Se—” Youngbae's mouth does this weird move like it doesn't know whether or not to say something or frown. “You know what? It's fine, you do you.” He pats Jiyong's shoulder, turns away, and doesn't bother to finish his sentence.

When Jiyong complains to Seungri about it, around fifteen minutes before they're due to go back on stage (which is probably bad timing on his part), it is when Seungri is sitting on his lap, and he is trying his hardest not to squirm under Jiyong's pleased eyes. 

He suspects Seungri hadn't heard a word of what Jiyong said above Daesung and Seunghyun's squabbling or Youngbae's laughter.

It's not until the room is empty of every other member that Seungri starts to relax, and Jiyong won't ever admit that he told Seungri to sit on his lap just to see him flustered.

It's inexplicable really, why the sight of Seungri's ears turning red in front of everyone makes him happy. Especially when he knows he caused it. 

(Jiyong loves how obvious Seungri is, even when he doesn't want to be. He loves that Seungri is just so honest about how he much he likes Jiyong.)

“Do you think they'll be back on time?” Seungri asks. ”Thirteen minutes before our break is over.”

“Youngbae's with them,” Jiyong replies. ”They'll be fine.”

Jiyong can still hear Daesung's screams echoing down the corridors. He'd made an ill-advised comment about how Seunghyun's wig made him look like a drowned rat, and Seunghyun had taken offense, but instead of immediate retaliation, opted to psych Daesung out through ominous laughter that increasingly got louder as it came closer to their performance time. 

Predictably, Daesung snapped and pulled a runner. And just as predictably, Seunghyun gave chase when he did.

The last time Jiyong saw the wig-in-question, it was being toted around by Youngbae. Youngbae hadn't seemed to mind the costume— probably because Seungri negotiated the school girl theme down to a skit and talked Jiyong out of using lipstick, _damn him for being so sneakily persuasive_ — beyond the slight grumbles about his skirt being too short, and Jiyong, very carefully, didn't mention that he purposefully chose the shortest skirt that he could get approved for Youngbae to wear.

“Even though they might get lost again?” Seungri says curiously.

Jiyong shrugs. “We can follow the sound of Daesungie's screams if we have to. That or Seunghyun-hyung's creepy laugh.” 

Seungri giggles and Jiyong smiles at the bright sound. “That's rude hyung.”

“Not if he's doing it on purpose,” Jiyong says. ”Now comfort me maknae, we have thirteen—” “Ten.” “—ten minutes to spare!”

Seungri laughs. “Alright hyung, tell me about the lap-sitting theory then,” he says. “It must've been something if Youngbae-hyung, of all people, was left speechless.”

Jiyong rolls his eyes at the teasing edge in Seungri's eyes. He pouts. “It is! It makes complete sense, I swear; and it hasn't been wrong yet, so there!”

Seungri raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Love is all about compromises, like with Gaho, for instance, when he comes over and falls asleep in my lap. We are making a compromise,” Jiyong explains. He plays with Seungri's fingers and smiles when Seungri opens his palms to make it easier. “I am getting pins and needles, but I also get a dog on my lap. It's a win-win situation.”

“Okay, and how does that apply to your relationship troubles?”

“I don't love them enough to compromise,” Jiyong says simply. “It gets annoying after awhile, and when that happens, they can tell.”

“Oh,” says Seungri. He looks contemplative, like he's trying to understand what Jiyong's trying to say, and Jiyong's heart flutters in his chest with a certain joy that he's slowly getting used to because maknae always always _always_ treats whatever Jiyong says as if it's important, and it makes him feel special. 

He reminds Jiyong of an eager puppy, and maybe that's part of the reason why Jiyong didn't mind letting Seungri sit on his lap when they had no more seats available. Even with the pins and needles.

“I didn't know you didn't like people sitting on your lap.” Seungri is faintly frowning and Jiyong doesn't like that.

When he moves to stand, Jiyong quickly hooks his ankle around Seungri's, ignores Seungri's surprised yelp, and forcibly lifts the younger boy up and plops them down on a nearby sofa so that he's half sprawled across Jiyong's lap. 

“Hyung?” Seungri asks, dazed. He blinks rapidly. “Didn't you say it made you uncomfortable?”

“Not _you_ maknae,” Jiyong says, and tries not to show how annoyed he feels at Seungri for moving away, because it's not his fault Jiyong didn't explain it well. “I like you enough that it doesn't matter if it hurts.”

Seungri's confused expression clears, and then he snorts. “Thanks hyung, I like you too,” Seungri says. He smiles at him, with flushed cheeks, upside down, and he's absolutely adorable. 

Jiyong smooshes his cheeks together to hide how giddy Seungri's confession makes him feel. Jiyong leans in with puckered lips. “Hyung, stop it.” Seungri tries to scowl, but he's laughing too much to keep a frown. “Let me go!”

“No way,” Jiyong says, grinning, and plants a wet kiss on Seungri's cheek, just because he can. Seungri whines at him adorably and Jiyong thinks, privately, that if he were to ever fall in love enough to compromise, he hopes it'll be with someone who is like Seungri. 

“Ew hyung.” Seungri sticks out his tongue. “Your breath stinks. Instead of worrying about your lap, you should fix your dental hygiene.” 

“Yah! You brat, you use the same toothpaste and mouthwash as I do,” Jiyong scowls and rolls his eyes when Seungri bursts into a fit of giggles and nearly slides off Jiyong's lap. “I'll hit you if you don't stop laughing brat,” he warns.

“You won't,” Seungri croons, in between fits of laughter, “you _like_ me too much!”

Jiyong rolls his eyes again, but doesn't deny it. Seungri grins victoriously and Jiyong watches him with bright eyes, sighs dramatically, and holds him closer. 

(Pins and needles in return for bright giggles and pink cheeks.)

Yes, Jiyong thinks, falling in love with someone like Seungri would be nice. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how i like this chapter tbh (not very much) but i promised to release two chapters so here it is *claps sadly* it's a bit longer to make up for the wait


	5. little thoughts and quiet moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music is the singing in his bones when he moves in front of others, singing and singing and singing, it is the tempo of his heartbeat in his ears, and the shining of the lights overhead as loudspeakers pump in the back. Music is feeling alive almost— a way to show that he's alive. But for Jiyong, it's different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do they always end up wrapped around each other? this chapter was gonna be much more dramatic and full of tears but my brain went, what if they just sleep? and then i blew it. seungri is a soft when sleepy and jiyong might be softer, who knows

**He is made of music.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| little thoughts and quiet moments |

Jiyong is an artist, Seungri thinks. He's different from Seungri. 

Seungri writes songs like they're a task. He thinks and repeats words that sound nice without much thought, sits down at his laptop and treats it like it's an assignment, because that's what it is to him. Seungri considers himself more of a dancer than an artist, and it shows. 

Seungri would much rather spend time inside a dance studio, sweat and breathless lungs, stinging muscles and aching bones. Dancing is something he understands, the thrill of moving his body and showing every emotion, project it on display for everyone to see and critique— he understands that.

It's part of the reason why Seungri didn't find it difficult to adapt to becoming an idol, they're both wearing masks, just of different kinds.

Seungri thinks he could understand music too, if he really tried to. Music and dancing go hand-and-hand after all, and while Seungri might only have a rudimentary understanding of _producing_ music, it doesn't mean he doesn't know anything at all. 

Music is the singing in his bones when he moves in front of others, singing and singing and singing, it is the tempo of his heartbeat in his ears, and the shining of the lights overhead as loudspeakers pump in the back. Music is feeling alive almost— a way to _show_ that he's alive. But for Jiyong, it's different. 

Jiyong puts his life and soul into his music, he shifts and spills with passion and poetry and notes that resonate in his blood. Music isn't a way for him to show he's alive, no, for Jiyong, music is living itself. Jiyong lives and breathes music, loves it beyond anything else, and it shows.

Seungri could wake up in the middle of the night and find the older boy crouched over a notebook, dark scribbles splashed across the pages, and song lyrics that Seungri knows will never see the light of day. 

If someone were to ask for an accumulation of Seungri's experience as Jiyong's roommate, what he remembers is this: the ink on his skin, the dark bruises underneath his eyes, the sound of pen on crisp paper, the light in his eyes right before he crashes and a hand— soft, firm, and heavy, fingertips stained with ink curled around his wrist, pressed against his pulse.

Seungri breathes in cold air, and it flutters around his ribcage, bird-like, as his eyes peel open, slowly. 

There are papers on the ground, crumpled around a pair of pants, and it's covered almost every inch of their floor. Big sheets of white paper with dark blue scribbles, wild and eye-catching. Just one of these papers were worth at least twenty of Seungri's.

Seungri blinks sleepily and shifts forward, squinting at the lights that are still on in their room. He can hear the sound of a pen scratching on crinkled paper, the same rhythmic noise Seungri had fallen asleep to— Seungri glances at the bedside clock that read 12:23am— three hours ago. 

Seungri rolls onto his side, lifting the covers slightly, so that he faces Jiyong's desk, the one that they all somehow managed to scrounge up enough money for. They'd picked it out at IKEA as a birthday gift; a nice white desk with cabinets running down its right side— Jiyong had fallen in love with it at first sight. “Hyung?” he murmurs in a daze. 

His brain is full of static, fuzzy and quiet. Seungri can barely form words in his mouth. Seungri swallows back a yawn, and musters the strength to open his eyes fully. “Why are you—” he yawns again, slow limbs stretching towards the edge of their bed “—still awake?”

Jiyong looks over with wild eyes, bright bright bright and the yellow light from the lampshade reflects in his pupils like stars. His hair is a mess of curls, soft and full, and Seungri remembers how long it took Jiyong to get it that way, had seen how careful Jiyong was in making sure he didn't mess them up afterwards. Seungri muffles a quiet giggle into his pillow and Jiyong softens at the sound.

“Go back to sleep,” Jiyong whispers. “I'll come in a moment.”

Seungri mulls over that, half-distracted by how soft their blanket is and how utterly warm he feels right now. His bones are lazy and refuse to move anymore than they have to, so he tilts his head back. “When?”

“After I finish this.”

Seungri is absolutely certain he won't and Jiyong does too. Jiyong's eyes flicker downwards, at his notebook, and then back at Seungri. He sits up, shifts forward, and runs his cold fingers through Seungri's hair. 

Seungri squeezes his eyes briefly, feeling his nails scratch lightly on his scalp. “Alright,” he says obediently. He could argue, he knows. Could insist on Jiyong coming to bed, but Jiyong hates being told what to do. It rankles him deep inside even when he smiles and pretends not to care; Seungri doesn't want to become someone Jiyong doesn't like. 

The thought thrums in his head. It's important, Seungri knows, not having Jiyong dislike him, but his brain is like an empty TV box, full of white noise and lost radio waves, and it's difficult to remember why it's important. Seungri listens to the waves until he becomes them; his heart beats to them, his mind swims in them, and he drifts until he's pleasantly lost. When he opens his eyes again, Seungri finds Jiyong sitting in the same spot as before.

The clock reads 2:04am. The sky is gray, slits and shades of ghosts in the shadows of midnight, creeping beneath the slowly spinning moon overhead. The room is cold from what Seungri's ears tell him and he snuggles back underneath the covers, and sighs. Then he frowns at the lack of another body beside him. _Enough_.

Seungri peeks from his blanket burrito, sees Jiyong crouched over a notebook, and sighs again. “It's late,” Seungri points out. Obvious. His voice cracks and Seungri swallows. “Jiyong-hyung, sunbae-nim, oppa.” See? Seungri can remember his honorifics. “Oppa, oppa, oppa, _oppa_!”

Jiyong blinks slowly at that, quietly like he doesn't know what he's doing and Seungri thinks he looks like a kitten. Seungri laughs, little puffs of air warming his chin. 

“Shouldn't it be hyung?” Jiyong asks sluggishly. His voice is slightly slurred like he's drunk, but he's not. Seungri knows what he's like when he's drunk, and this isn't it.

Seungri shakes his head a little. “Not when it's 2am in the morning hyung.”

Jiyong's eyes are lost and wide and shiny. Like the moon, Seungri thinks. “How does that work?”

“2am means common sense has no power here,” Seungri says. “It's Seungri's logic from here on out, and I say that I can call you oppa. That's just how it goes hyung.”

“That's not how it works,” Jiyong says, and he frowns. Like he's confused, so of course Seungri takes advantage of it.

“Of course it does,” Seungri says with complete surety, as if it were a fact, and Jiyong nods with little protest. Seungri's heart is fuzzy, and Jiyong looks exhausted, and he makes grabby hands at the older boy. “Sleep hyungie, I command you.”

“But _I'm_ the leader,” Jiyong's voice lilts and he whines, even as he drops his notebook and crawls onto the bed, and into Seungri's arms. “You're not supposed to order me around maknae.”

“Not when it's 2am,” Seungri breathes. He hums and pulls Jiyong closer— makes sure the older boy doesn't try to get up again. Jiyong drags Seungri's arms around him, loops his own across Seungri's waist, and tangles their legs together.

Seungri closes his eyes, because Jiyong's cold feet are pressing against his shins, and he doesn't have to think very hard to know that this is Jiyong's way of punishing him. It's enough to make Seungri want to smile at his childishness. It reminds him of Hanna.

Jiyong frowns against the curve of his throat. “What abou—” he yawns mid-word, blinks watery eyes at him, and settles closer. “What about 3am? Is that _my_ hour?”

“Sure, why not,” Seungri agrees. “It can be your hour.” He curls his fingers around Jiyong's crumpled shirt.

“Mine.” Jiyong nuzzles his face into the crook of Seungri's shoulder. He yawns again. His lashes tickle his skin and Seungri huffs a laugh into Jiyong's hair. He smells like fresh ink and cold coffee and paper. “I'll take a nap, but only for an hour,” he informs Seungri seriously, and Seungri smiles. “Wake me up when it's 3 ok?”

"Yes hyung," Seungri accedes, whispers as Jiyong finally relaxes and all tension leaves his body. Seungri listens to the quiet sound of Jiyong's barely discernible snores, and there's music there, he thinks, because Jiyong creates music in his every living moment. 

(He doesn't understand Jiyong, not always, but he thinks he could, if he tried hard enough.) 

Seungri stifles another yawn behind his teeth. He's tired. They have a busy day tomorrow; today. 

After making sure Jiyong is well and truly asleep, Seungri carefully reaches over and pull their blanket up and over Jiyong's side, and just before Seungri moves back, he catches the red glow of their clock as the digits transition to 3:00am.

_Well, what Jiyong doesn't know won't hurt him._

Seungri closes his eyes, takes in the warm weight around him, and falls asleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if i like the ending, but if i had continued, it would've been much more,, sad haha QAQ seungriiii my baby, you're an artist too y'know??


	6. cigarettes and lollipops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love strawberries!!” Seungri sneaks a glimpse at him and when Jiyong doesn't laugh, he immediately reveals a bright and silly smile. He's too cute. “They're sweet and cute!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jiyong's in denial a little but it's cute

**He prefers sour candies to be honest.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| cigarettes and lollipops |

_Jiyong lights up his cigarette and Seungri scrunches his nose in mild disgust at the smell._

_It's adorable, and Jiyong laughs delightedly, and Seungri huffs and pouts and scrambles back with all the elegance of a newborn fawn. He looks so young against the curl of smoke and Jiyong wants to come closer and tease him._

_Jiyong blows a slow stream of smoke and watches Seungri cough exaggeratedly with a smirk. Seungri frowns. “I could never date someone who smokes,” he declares._

_Jiyong stops._

That was weeks ago. Sixteen days and two hours. Sixteen days and two hours of contemplating and frustration that Jiyong will never admit to.

How could Seungri realistically expect to follow that? Around 45% of males in South Korea are smokers, doesn't he know he just cut his dating pool in half? Jiyong studiously ignores that the percentage of women who smoke is only around 8%.

Seungri doesn't want to date someone who smokes, hah, just thinking about it is laughable. Societal norms say he won't ever find a boyfriend with that kind of picky attitude. (Societal norms also say he won't need to, because he's not supposed to be gay.)

He picks up a cigarette and lighter and scowls. Jiyong's fingers are jittery and he hates it.

The first time he went on stage as G-Dragon, his hands didn't shake. The first time he performed beneath YG's gaze, his hands didn't shake. The first time BIGBANG perfomed together, his hands didn't shake.

So why is it, after hearing Seungri's blunt declaration, Jiyong finds that he can't hold his cigarette without shivering.

“I'm so stupid,” Jiyong mutters. Just because his maknae said he didn't like smokers. Just because... Jiyong wants to say he doesn't care, but when he remembers Seungri's soft admiring eyes, and thinks about that disappearing, he can't breathe.

There is a persistent crow living in his chest, and it constantly rattles its feathers, dark and itchy, whenever he tries to speak. Jiyong ruffles his hair and grits his teeth in irritation. He growls and drops the cigarette on the ground, grinds it with the heel of his shoe, “Fine.”

Jiyong bites his lip. “Fine. If he doesn't like it, that's fine,” he says curtly. “It's not like I liked smoking that much anyway.”

Something about it (“I could never date someone who smokes”) makes Jiyong irritated. But he can admit he doesn't like the idea of relying on something so much, so maybe quitting isn't a bad idea.

There are rumors of the government passing stricter smoking laws anyway, so it was only a matter of time before Jiyong was going to have to quit; deciding to do it now — well, it has little to do with Seungri.

Jiyong's just making sure BIGBANG doesn't have any internal problems or future scandals, he reasons. He's not going to risk it all for a pack of cigarettes.

(This is what he tells himself.)

The nicotine patches burn a little. Sort of like heat patches, except not, and Jiyong pictures a fire— a slow simmering birth of heat eating at his skin. Picking and devouring and making its way towards his lungs, and with each exhale Jiyong makes, he can almost see the smoke coming out.

It leaves him feeling empty. Feeling hollow.

Not smoking has left Jiyong realizing how much he depended on it. There is a space inside him, that needs to be filled. It is a huge gaping hole, a great crack that Jiyong had unknowingly fed with dripping ink words and cancerous smoke.

It's a startling realization.

“Hyung, have this.” He feels something smooth pressed against his lips. It smells sweet. Jiyong blinks rapidly at the confectionary.

Seungri grins at him, eyes crinkling with infectious cheer, and Jiyong automatically smiles back. It's baffling how easily Seungri is able to coax a smile from him.

Jiyong opens his mouth and lets the lollipop fall onto his tongue; bursts of tangy sweetness pop like tiny sparklers and fireworks.

Strawberry.

“It's my favorite; strawberry delight,” Seungri says, as if Jiyong didn't already know. “It's better than gritting your teeth.”

“Yeah, it'll just rot my teeth instead,” Jiyong retorts, instead of telling him about the nicotine patches. And he's not sure why, but Jiyong doesn't want him to remember their conversation weeks ago. “Besides, aren't you supposed to use gum for that? This'll turn my teeth yellow.”

“Oh I don't know,” and Seungri smiles like a cat, all long lashes and devil-may-care voice. “I think it'll be an improvement hyung.”

Jiyong barks a laugh, teeth clicking around the treat, and pushes the boy's shoulder playfully. “Yah! You brat, how dare you maknae. My looks are a gift to the world.”

“Keep telling yourself that hyung.” Seungri laughs, and he's loud; all unattractive snorts and wild giggles that are absolutely amazing and they spill from his lips like sunshine. His eyes are filled with mirth, and Jiyong has the sudden, wild urge to become a comedian just so he can always hear Seungri laugh.

Jiyong swallows the taste of artificial strawberries.

Seungri catches his breath, his eyes are glowing, and a curious warmth sinks into Jiyong's ribs. “So how come you're not,” Seungri says, and he gestures at the air.

“Smoking?” Jiyong finishes for him. He licks his lips, restless. “I'm quitting, because of the smoking laws. Plus it's bad for my image,” he explains, his voice comes out quick enough to sound defensive. Jiyong winces.

“I thought you had a bad boy image,” Seungri says quietly, and Jiyong doesn't know what to think of it.

“It's called swag,” Jiyong says, he scratches his neck. “You don't need to smoke to be swag.”

Seungri smiles, a small smile that seems out of place on his maknae's face, but Jiyong's heart skips a beat all the same. “Seunghyun-hyung's gonna be lonely without a smoking buddy. Maybe Daesung-hyung will finally convince him to stop too.”

“Daesungie's fighting a losing battle,” Jiyong quirks his lips. “He can pry his cigarettes from hyung's dead, cold, and unfeeling fingers.“

“I don't know,” Seungri smiles wider this time, and his eyes are shining with a giddy excitement. This is familiar, Jiyong thinks, and he feels himself relax now that he's on surer ground. “That's what they said about you.” _And now you're quitting._

Jiyong rolls his eyes. “It's not that big of a deal,” he says, even though it kind of is. Seungri laughs.

He explodes to his feet, a small volcano with his fists clenched at his sides, and he's vibrating out of his skin like a boiling tea kettle. Seungri's face is bright with giddiness and he's bouncing the balls of his feet; it makes Jiyong want to pull him close for no reason than to feel him shake.

“Ahhhh hyung! You're quitting!” he cheers. “Banzai!!” He sounds like a dork. A cute dork.

Jiyong laughs at him. He hides his gummy smile behind a hand and resists the urge to hook his arm around Seungri's neck. Fondness curls in his chest like a lazy cat and Seungri is glowing, glowing, glowing and Jiyong lo—

(Jiyong's breath catches in his throat and he blinks rapidly, bites his lollipop, and tries to stop thinking.)

“I'm so proud of you hyung-ah,” Seungri crows. “It's gonna be hard to get rid of the addiction, but I know you can get through it. You're the strongest person I know!” Seungri is so, so cheesy and Jiyong's ears are hot with second-hand embarrassment.

“It's not an addiction,” he protests.

“It acts like an addiction, it smells like an addiction, it looks like it's an addiction,” Seungri lists, and gives Jiyong an unimpressed look. So sassy, Jiyong thinks. “It's an addiction hyung.”

“That's what you think, but I have perfect self-control,” Jiyong says.

“Sure,” Seungri laughs. “Tell me that again when you don't have evidence of T.O.P-hyung's leftover tiramisu on your desk.”

“It's for his own good!” Jiyong insists, biting down on the smile growing on his lips. “He's on a diet!”

“Lies,” Seungri shakes his head. His eyes soften and he steps closer. “Everything you say is lies.”

Jiyong smiles, and he doesn't pull away. Leans in to kiss Seungri's cheek, and murmurs, “Everything I say is correct.”

Seungri's cheeks turn pink, a delightful color, and Jiyong's hard-pressed not to kiss him again. “You have no self-control hyung,” he says again, and Jiyong's fingertips press over the pulse of his wrist, a gentle pressure full of heat.

“I have great self-control,” Jiyong corrects him, and his eyes flicker down before he can catch himself. His throat is dry and tastes of artificial strawberries and wet paper. “You wouldn't recognize me without it.”

Seungri is a huge help in his quitting process, not that Jiyong will ever admit it aloud. Whenever Jiyong craves a smoke, Seungri always knows, and he always makes sure to give him a lollipop.

“Why is it always strawberry??” Jiyong asks, exasperated.

“I love strawberries!!” Seungri sneaks a glimpse at him and when Jiyong doesn't laugh, he immediately reveals a bright and silly smile. He's too cute. “They're sweet and cute!”

“Just like you?” Jiyong teases, and Seungri smiles so wide, Jiyong is tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture. He does. Seungri reaches over to grab his phone.

“I'm absolutely adorable hyung,” Seungri says seriously, and this time, Jiyong laughs.

Jiyong finds himself buying bags of strawberry lollipops at grocery stores even when his maknae isn't there. Seungri's got him hooked.

“Finally!” Seunghyun hollers from the couch. Only his leg and arm is visible, the rest is buried beneath two blankets that Jiyong's pretty sure belongs to Youngbae and Daesung. Jiyong makes a questioning noise as he fumbles with his plastic bag. “Did you buy anything? More cigarettes? Food?”

“I'm quitting!” Jiyong says. He locks the door, slides the key in smooth, and pulls out a lollipop.

Seunghyun blinks. He sits up and raises his incredulous eyebrows. “No more smoking? You?” he says, with a shocked air, and Jiyong is vaguely offended by it, but then his face crumples. “Ahhh, I lost the bet with Daesungie, why couldn't you have kept smoking for two more weeks?” he sobs. “My special edition bungeo-ppang coupons! They were going to be so good! Why are you so weak Jiyong!?”

“Is this what my health means to you?” Jiyong says dryly.

“Crispy edges and creamy, red bean insides,” Seunghyun says, and continues his fake sobbing. “It could've been great, me and three bungeo—”

“Oh no,” Daesung says as he opens the door fully, and holds out the plastic bags that promise greasy takeout and buttery deliciousness as a shield. “T.O.P-hyung's waxing about food again!”

“Gross,” Seungri pipes up from behind him.

Seunghyun makes affronted noises, ridiculous little huffs, before he lunges at them with all the indignant fury of a rhino. Daesung and Seungri are quick to make a run for it, passing their bags to a confused Youngbae behind them.

Jiyong laughs at them.

“I thought you hated sweet things,” Youngbae says as he sets the bags down, and starts to set the table. He eyes Jiyong curiously.

“Eh,” Jiyong shrugs and curls his tongue around another lollipop. Strawberry; artificial and sweet. Jiyong wants to french kiss the person who invented sour filled strawberry lollipops. Seungri prefers the vanilla filled ones. Jiyong wants to stab the person who decided to make them so expensive. “It's grown on me. I'll probably buy something different later. Something more sourer.”

Jiyong never changes the flavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> went through a lot of editing, but i think i'm okay with the chapter now


	7. but he's sure that he hates vanilla strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungri closes his eyes and it’s Jiyong, in their dorm room, the warm weight of his body on top of Seungri’s, and the taste of strawberries on his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seungri's still dumb and jiyong might be a lil' bit dumber, also daesung is best bro, youngbae is best mom, and seunghyun is cool ice cream uncle

**Sweet and creamy, it is the taste of vanilla.**

**eighteen is two years (too young)**

| but he's sure that he hates vanilla strawberries |

The air is cold on Seungri’s skin.

Grocery stores are always too cold for Seungri. He should’ve brought a jacket, he thinks regretfully, as he stares at the row of meat in front of him. 

There is a poster beside the meat and seafood aisle, of a boy with the whitest teeth. He looks unnervingly cheery in his sailor suit, with his black hair peeking through the hat. The giant sushi plate in his arms clashes with his picture perfect smile. It’s ridiculously plastic and fake, but strangely charming; not an uncommon combination in Seoul. 

Seungri isn’t looking forward to being on the other side of the poster. He knows YG’s been pushing for endorsements lately, and while Seungri won’t say no to making more money, he also dearly hopes it won’t be a food ad.

Daesung’s mouth moves a little to the side, almost-but-not-quite frowning, and he sighs heavily. “Should we get beef or pork?” he asks. 

“Youngbae-hyung told us to get pork,” Seungri points out. “We’re making pork bone stew— can’t do that without pork.” 

“Yeah, but there’s a limited sale on beef,” Daesung whines, but he takes a package of pork neck bones and sets it in the basket. He slants his eyes over to Seungri, and smiles coyly. “We could always make beef bone stew.”

Seungri’s lips twitch. He holds back a laugh. “Wouldn’t that just be beef stew?”

Daesung grabs his shoulder and shakes him playfully, his eyes squinting and hiding what Seungri is sure to be pure mischief. “Beef stew, pork stew, they’re both so good! What’s wrong with having both?”

“I think,” Seungri says with a deliberate slowness, mouth curling into a smirk as he looks away, “that you’ve been hanging around T.O.P-hyung too much if you can say something like that.”

Daesung gasps dramatically and Seungri muffles his giggles. “Betrayal!” he cries. “From my own dongsaeng? Say it ain’t so!” 

“It ain't so,” Seungri cries out, feeling childish and loud because Daesung is silly and exactly the kind of person out for Seungri’s heart. He’s the older brother Seungri never knew he wanted, the other part of his jokester soul; his occasional partner-in-crime. 

Daesung bursts into peals of laughter and Seungri grins at him proudly. Seungri strikes a pose and Daesung smiles. Seungri makes a silly face and Daesung giggles. Seungri throws his arms around his shoulders and Daesung hugs him.

It’s so easy to be around Daesung. So, so easy, Seungri thinks, that it’s almost hilarious to look back and remember how awkward they were before.

Daesung pokes the middle of his brows and Seungri blinks rapidly in surprise. Daesung smiles crookedly. “You’re going to get wrinkles if you think too hard.”

Seungri pouts, “My skin is silky smooth hyung.”

Daesung shakes his head, and his face crinkles as he pretends to be a wise old man about to impart knowledge, “That’s what they all say at your age. Just you wait, by the time you’re twenty-one, you’ll start growing wrinkles everywhere.”

“You’re nineteen hyung,” Seungri drawls teasingly, closes his fingers around the cart handle and pushes it forward. “One year older than me.”

“Nineteen going on thirty, I’ve spent so much time around Seunghyun-hyung that his mid-life crisis is starting to bleed into my soul,” Daesung says, and Seungri laughs. “I need some comfort food. Anytime I buy something, hyung is somehow always there to take some.”

“I could ask Youngbae-hyung to get beef for you,” offers Seungri.

“Nah,” Daesung shakes his head, his eyes glinting with determination. “I’ve got a better idea”

“Better idea?” Seungri says questioningly.

Daesung leans against Seungri playfully, slipping and linking their arms together. “You'll see later, but first we have to finish shopping.” Seungri smiles. 

“Alright hyung,” Seungri agrees easily, and they fall into a comfortable quiet. It’s just him and Daesung in a too-cold grocery store, music on the speakers and the volume turned up loud as someone in the background hums along. 

Neither of them mention anything about there being a time limit, but the memory of the last time Seunghyun was hungry urges them to pick up their pace.

“So what's been on your mind maknae?” Daesung asks, he picks up a box of cereal and scans the amount of sugar in it. He puts it back. “You look confused lately.”

“I do?” Seungri says. He rubs his thumb over the cart handle, feeling the deep indents in the red plastic. “I don't _feel_ very confused.”

Daesung smiles at Seungri’s cheekiness. “Not confused then,” he amends. “More contemplative, maybe?”

Seungri blinks contemplati— he laughs a little. Well, Daesung’s not wrong. Seungri has been thinking a lot lately.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Daesung says. 

Seungri glances over at Daesung, and the older boy looks kind of fidgety, like he wants to say something but he’s holding himself back. 

Daesung has never been the sort to butt into other people’s businesses, and Seungri knows if he says it’s nothing, Daesung won’t pry. He’s nice like that. He probably won’t judge, he thinks. And that's what convinces him to talk.

“Jiyong-hyung’s been avoiding me,” Seungri says, and he purses his lips, struggling to pull his thoughts together. He gets distracted by a buy-one-get-one half-price deal for ice cream. They should get some later, for Seunghyun. 

(Ah, he’s trying to avoid thinking about it again. Seungri has to stop doing that.)

“Hyung?” Daesung prompts, and he raises an eyebrow, but Seungri thinks he doesn’t look particularly surprised. Jiyong’s been hanging around Daesung more often these days after all.

Seungri tries not to feel jealous, and he mostly succeeds. 

“Yep,” Seungri pops the ‘p’ and blows a stray hair piece from his eyes. “I think he’s been avoiding me, and— I think that, maybe, he hates me again.” The confession is a lot less dramatic than he imagined it to be. 

Maybe this talk won’t be so bad after all. Seungri snorts. _Yeah, right._

Daesung raises his other eyebrow, and he looks much more genuine in his surprise this time. “Hyung hating _you_?” 

Seungri isn’t sure why that shocks him so much; it’s not like this is the first time Jiyong has hated him. Although it _has_ been awhile. 

“Yeah,” Seungri says absentmindedly. He reaches over Daesung’s shoulder to grab a different brand of cereal. “I’m not sure what I did this time, and I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he frowns a little, “but he always makes an excuse or distracts when I try to corner him.”

(Jiyong offers to stand instead of telling Seungri to sit on his lap. He doesn’t pull him into hugs, and goes out of his way to avoid touching him. Jiyong doesn’t look him in the eyes anymore. What did Seungri do wrong?) 

“I thought you didn’t like him touching you,” Daesung says, and when Seungri looks at him, his eyes reveal nothing. 

“It’s not like that. He’s just too,” Seungri tries to find a word that explains what he feels every time Jiyong crowds into his space like he belongs there. He tries to find a word that encompasses how happy and sad and confused it makes him feel. Seungri can't. “..close,” he finishes lamely. “Sometimes, I can't breathe with him around.”

“But?”

“I didn’t dislike it,” Seungri looks down at Daesung’s jacket, and feels envious at how warm he looks. “It made him happy, I think.”

Nyongtory, their couple name. Almost kisses and lingering glances and too close, too close touches. Nyongtory, and the way Jiyong seems to bloom underneath the name.

“And that made _me_ happy, but it’s hard sometimes,” Seungri says quietly, and it feels like he’s tearing open an old wound that he’s tried so hard to ignore. “To figure out what he wants from me. I don’t want him to hate me again.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Daesung says.

“Not-like me then,” Seungri says. “I don’t want him to go back to ignoring me.”

“Would it bother you if he stopped?” Daesung asks. He keeps his eyes steady on Seungri. “If he went back to being close to you without saying anything?”

Seungri blinks slowly. “..I don’t know,” he admits. “He’s my hyung.” Seungri says that like it should mean something, and it does, but he doesn’t know how much. 

“That’s not an answer Seungri-ah,” Daesung says gently, voice full of quiet understanding. Seungri knows it’s not but he doesn’t know what the correct answer is either. 

Seungri glances away and tries to change the subject. “I’m cold,” he pouts, and rubs his arms for warmth. He wants to shake and shiver and throw himself into an exaggerated quiver, all clumsy limbs and loud whines. Pretend its the cold that’s making his uncomfortable.

A jacket is draped over his shoulders. 

“Stupid,” Daesung chides, and Seungri smiles at him, all dimples and pink cheeks, until the older boy’s eyes soften with exasperated fondness. Everyone thinks he’s cute and Seungri has no problem taking advantage of it. “You should’ve worn something thicker.”

Daesung pulls the zipper up to his neck, and the jacket is a little too big, but Seungri is warm. Daesung smells like that Shea butter lotion he always uses. “Hyung will be mad if you get sick,” he says. 

Seungri’s smile fades. “Will he?” he thinks, murmurs aloud, and he wants to take it back immediately. Shame and something that feels an awful lot like mortification builds in his chest.

“He will,” Daesung says firmly, and then he pauses. “He cares about you Ri. You should talk to him. Ask him and clear things up.” His eyes soften and he laughs with a tinge of exasperation, “I don’t think anything you do now could make hyung hate you though.”

Daesung might be right, but it’s hard, especially since the older boy doesn’t know what Seungri does. Seungri still thinks of it sometimes: pressure on his lips, smoke in his lungs, messy hair, and the taste of strawberries before he goes to sleep at night. 

“Seungri?” Daesung says.

Seungri licks his lips. Hums. 

“Think about it,” Daesung says. “Try, for me?”

“That’s not fair hyung,” Seungri says, finally, and Daesung chuckles. “You know I can’t resist that tone.”

“I have to have some kind of leverage over you, don’t I?” Daesung jokes, and hugs him. 

For a while, after that confession, it’s quiet. Just the two of them, the youngest of the group, strolling around in a too-cold grocery store, and soaking in the quiet apathy that came with shopping at night.

“I’ll ask him tonight,” Seungri says, and Daesung smiles at him. He puts a steady, comforting hand on Seungri’s shoulder, and Seungri appreciates it.

When it’s all said and done, and they’re back at the dorm, and taking the groceries out in order to make dinner, Seungri wants to run.

“Maknae!” Jiyong says. His eyes light up at the sight of him before they quickly look away. “Where did you go? I missed you.” 

“We went shopping hyung,” Seungri says. 

Jiyong crosses the space between them, and stops just a hair’s breadth away from Seungri. He touches his face, and all Seungri can see are how long his eyelashes are. “You should’ve asked me to come with you.” 

Seungri ducks away from Jiyong’s hand with a shaky laugh. “It’s just shopping hyung, nothing that important.” 

“I disagree,” Seunghyun says flatly. “Food is life and there is nothing greater than life. Especially mine.”

“What about music?” Jiyong says, squinting at the older man. 

“That could be debatable,” Seunghyun says, and he’s very nonchalant for someone who’s entire livelihood depends on music. “Music and food are the same. Both completely unnecessary but so, so good to indulge in.”

“Unnec—” Jiyong looks offended and Seungri can’t tell if it’s the insult towards food or music.

“That doesn’t even make sense hyung,” Daesung interjects softly, barely holding back a trace of laughter. “Don’t you need food to survive?”

“Of course we need food to survive, but I bet that’s not the case for our dearest leader,” Seunghyun says shamelessly, which has Daesung tilting his head back as loud laughter bubbles out of him. “I swear, he’d survive solely on ink and paper if it were possible.”

“Yah! You take that back,” Jiyong hollers, and Seungri takes the chance to take a step away. He bumps into Daesung, who gives him a supportive bump on the shoulder. Seungri breathes quietly. 

“No!” Seunghyun shoots back. 

Youngbae drops the bag of groceries onto the table with a loud slam. “Is anyone going to help me cook?” He rolls his eyes at them, but he’s also smiling ear-to-ear, so everyone knows he’s not really annoyed. 

“I’ll help,” Daesung volunteers.

“This is why you’re my favorite; so obedient,” Youngbae grins. Seungri thinks about the two candy bars, one in his pocket, and the other in Daesung’s, and stifles a laugh.

Seunghyun boos, slumps over the table, and whines. “Let’s eat some ice cream! Ice cream!” 

“Not until you eat dinner,” Youngbae says. “And don’t think I can’t see you Daesung!” Daesung is in the middle of an aborted movement of stealing an ice cream cone. He smiles sheepishly.

While they’re distracted, Jiyong wraps an arm around Seungri’s and drags him to their room. It’s a common enough sight that no one says anything about it, if they even noticed at all.

Jiyong closes the door shut and Seungri sits on the bed. Laura greets him as always, while poor Tom is suffocated by a mass of clothing. “Did you forget your jacket?” Jiyong clicks his tongue in disapproval, even as he tugs on Daesung’s jacket, and Seungri lets him slip it off him. “You’re going to get sick one day.” 

“I’m fine,” Seungri says. “It wasn’t that cold, really.” But Jiyong acts like he can’t hear him and continues to fuss. (And it’s strange, to Seungri, how Jiyong doesn’t look at him any longer than he has to but his fingers always, always, always linger. He’s both close but far away at the same time.)

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Seungri says aloud.

Jiyong’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?” And then he laughs, smiles a little like he’s amused, “Did you get in trouble again?”

“Why do you assume the worst of me?” Seungri retorts, and he can almost pretend they’re okay again. Almost, but not quite, because Jiyong still isn’t meeting his eyes.

Seungri wants to see his eyes.

“Hyung,” Seungri says, and his voice cracks. “Hyung, why are you avoiding me?”

“I—,” Jiyong blinks. His voice comes out rough, and he licks his lips. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Seungri asks, he leans forward and grasps Jiyong’s hands. Seungri feels tired. “I’ll fix it, I promise.”

Jiyong is trembling and Seungri wants to know _why_. 

Jiyong shakes his head slowly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I just — ”

Jiyong looks beyond anxious and it makes Seungri feel— despite him trying not to— nervous too. Seungri curls his fingers around the other’s.

“Please tell me hyung,” Seungri pleads softly and Jiyong freezes. Eyes wide like a rabbit’s and Seungri wonders if his heart is racing like one’s too.

Then Jiyong slumps forward. Shudders like he’s trying to pull himself together after a bad day.

“I like you too much,” Jiyong confesses quietly, and Seungri has to move closer to hear him. He still doesn’t look at Seungri, lashes fluttering with nervous energy, but he doesn’t shy away either. “I like touching you and hugging you. You’re my maknae and I care about you.” 

“I do too,” Seungri says plainly. And he doesn’t understand what’s the problem.

Jiyong opens his mouth. Then he closes it. “But I also,” Jiyong looks up at him, and then away, as quick as a hummingbird. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

_I can’t stop thinking about it._

Seungri closes his eyes and it’s Jiyong, in their dorm room, the warm weight of his body on top of Seungri’s, and the taste of strawberries on his tongue. 

Seungri breathes out a quiet little, “oh.”

Jiyong’s shoulders stiffen at that, rise like he’s about to scowl or leave or do some sharp motion that would push Seungri away from him. Seungri squeezes his hands before he can. 

“You can,” Seungri says without thinking. But Seungri looks at Jiyong and his heart remembers the times they spent underneath the baby blue skies, yawning and swallowing rays of sunlight with tired eyes and lazy laughter. 

Jiyong is his hyung. 

He is his friend, maybe even one of his best friends, and Seungri trusts him. Being around him feels easy, as simple as one-two-three, and maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to continue whatever thisis. 

Jiyong’s eyes are wide in disbelief, uncharacteristically shocked, and it makes Seungri want to smile. “What?” 

“I don’t mind.” Seungri peers up at him from beneath his lashes, “I trust you and I guess, I guess kissing you isn’t so bad.” 

Seungri doesn’t know if this is a good idea. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but Jiyong wants to and Jiyong’s never, never led him wrong before. _Everything you create is perfect_ , Seungri had said to him once. This isn’t something Jiyong’s creating, but it’s something Seungri knows he wants— so Seungri will let him.

Something flickers across Jiyong’s face, too fast for Seungri to read, and the older boy takes in a shallow breath. He bites his lips, and looks at Seungri.

“Okay,” Jiyong’s voice is dry, and he repeats, “Okay.” Jiyong pushes Seungri against the wall slowly, and he looms over him. His hands are shaking. “Is this okay?” His eyes search for any hint of unwillingness on Seungri’s face. 

He finds none. 

Jiyong moves closer, and he fills up Seungri’s vision, bright and brilliant in his every action. Seungri wants to be like him, to take up someone’s attention, steal it away, just like him. Jiyong smiles a little, oh god, as if he can hear Seungri’s thoughts, and Seungri—

Seungri suddenly can’t breathe. “Yes,” he whispers.

Jiyong laughs, short and delighted and absurdly happy, and Seungri’s eyes widen just a fraction as he leans in to kiss him. Seungri sucks in a startled breath, but can't stop the way it escapes him, breathy and soft. Jiyong’s hands are a warm weight on his hips, and Seungri closes his eyes; and this time, Seungri is the one whose eyelashes are fluttering. 

He tips Seungri’s head back to let him deepen the kiss and Seungri shakes a little at the slide of his tongue, and the heat of his mouth, and the weight of Jiyong’s body as he leans into it. 

It’s a surprise that feels a long time in coming; unexpected but at the same time exactly what Seungri has been waiting for since Jiyong first proposed that idea.

Slowly, carefully, Jiyong eases the kiss back, softens it, gentle until it’s a bare, nearly chaste slant of lips; again and again like he can't get enough. 

There is a swelling sensation in Seungri’s chest, the urge to laugh mixed with an uncanny excitement that urges him pull Jiyong even closer. Such a curious emotion. 

(His heart aches and Seungri doesn’t know why.)

“Does this mean we’re friends again?” Seungri asks weakly, dizzy with the taste of vanilla strawberries, and Jiyong— Jiyong looks at him with bright bright eyes, still close enough that Seungri can feel his breath on his lips, and kisses him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hohoho this is late and i'm sick,,, that's also why it's longer shhhhh and um, have this thing that i'll publish somewhere,,,someday:
> 
> Extra scene: Daesung’s plan
> 
> They converge with Youngbae near the cash registers and Daesung elbows him gently, nodding towards the snack aisle as he angled his body in front of Youngbae. Seungri’s eyes widen, ever so slightly, before he schools his face to show absolute innocence.
> 
> Youngbae stands by the card-reader, fiddling with his wallet as he small-talked with the cashier because he’s polite like that. He has no idea.
> 
> A bag of soybean sprouts passes over the checkstand scanner. Beep.
> 
> Shiitake mushrooms. Beep.
> 
> Potatoes. Beep.
> 
> Green onions. Beep.
> 
> Soybean paste. Beep.
> 
> Seungri lingers on two candy bars they'd snuck onto the belt; watching them inch to the cashier at the end, absolutely enraptured and paralyzed with anticipation: would they would be noticed?
> 
> Daesung is standing by the magazines, and instead of vibrating suspiciously, he takes a magazine off the rack and flicks through it; the very picture of casual disinterest.  
> Seungri holds his breath as the candy bars reach the cashier. The cashier rings them up. 
> 
> They’re in the bags. Seungri watches, elated.
> 
> Youngbae hadn’t noticed.
> 
> He turns and makes brief eye contact with Daesung and sees that the older boy smiling as cool as a cucumber and Seungri bites down his own blinding grin.
> 
> Oh, it wasn't about the candy— not for Seungri. He could always get Jiyong to buy him one if he asked nicely after all. But it was about victory. 
> 
> It was about how very sneaky and subtle they were. 
> 
> This would be a secret between the two of them; the time that they'd pulled wool over their hyung's eyes. And as Daesung quickly swipes the bag with their prizes and bumps his shoulder to Seungri's, this understanding passes between them; no words needed.

**Author's Note:**

> trying something new bc we need some fluff and i need to write shorter things. these are mostly old snippets from my discord


End file.
